


No Comparison

by WldCatSprStr_14



Series: Five Rings [3]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-19
Updated: 2011-12-19
Packaged: 2017-10-27 14:00:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/296616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WldCatSprStr_14/pseuds/WldCatSprStr_14
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur knows that it can only ever be Merlin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Comparison

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd. Written for Day 17 of [](http://adventchallenge.livejournal.com/profile)[**adventchallenge**](http://adventchallenge.livejournal.com/). In the same 'verse as [My True Love Gave To Me.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/294490) and [Watch Me](http://archiveofourown.org/works/294947).

It isn’t Percival’s thighs, ripcord strong, slick with sweat and glistening in the low light, that set Arthur’s pulse racing. It’s the way that they make Merlin’s body look so small and vulnerable as Percival cradles it against his broad chest.

It isn’t Leon’s hand that makes Arthur’s gut clench with desire, the same strong hand that took Arthur in its grip that first time and brought him off with calculating strokes, left him a trembling wide-eyed wreck on his first campaign away from Camelot. Instead, it’s the way that hand wraps itself around Merlin’s slim neck and draws him into a kiss that makes him purr softly.

The beads of sweat sliding down the sharp planes of Gwaine’s abdomen aren’t what make Arthur growl low in his throat. It’s watching Merlin wrench his lips away Leon’s to chase those beads of sweat with his tongue, and hearing him moan low in his throat when Gwaine fists a hand in his dark hair and pushes his head lower that drives him to cup himself through his breeches and bite his lip to stifle a groan.

Elyan’s hips alone, tapered down from his broad back and sinuous in their movement, can’t set Arthur’s blood on fire. But the image of them, dark like rich earth and rolling between Merlin’s pale thighs, has the King’s blood roaring through his veins like wild horses.

Arthur would never deny that his men are beautiful. All power and muscle and agility. Arthur has found his pleasure in those bodies before, sometimes in touching them and being touched and sometimes just in the image of them behind his lids as he brought himself to the brink with a firm hand.

But none of them are as beautiful as Merlin is. And when Merlin finds his pleasure for what must be the fourth time that night, crying out weakly and trembling in Percival’s thick arms, Arthur is sure that no one could ever be.

~FIN~


End file.
